Death and Coffee
by catlady45
Summary: What good is coffee to a vampire? Especially without all those pesky emotions affecting the taste.


A/N - Taking off from the scene at the Gilbert kitchen table in 4x15, after Jeremy's dead. Somebody's probably written basically this before - I don't think I've done anything particularly ground breaking here but I definitely had fun putting it together! For the TVD ficathon (my first prompt response ever!) The idea is from morallydubiousprincess. Prompt: "AU where Elena turns it off without anyone telling her to."

Elena never would admit it, but one of the most disappointing things about becoming a vampire was losing _coffee_.

Oh sure, she can still drink it, and it's still good. Comforting, in the way it reminds her of vacations where her parents let her sit up late, or her first "grown-up date" with Matt, or post-workout breakfasts with Alaric. But it's just not enough against vampire constitution to really _do_ anything. Like using warm milk to wake up a baby. After only a few weeks, she'd pretty much given up on drinking it - as had every other vampire she knew.

So, yeah, coffee is a thing of the past. Which is why she's pretty sure Caroline only made some to drown out the unmistakable smell of death gradually seeping into the kitchen.

It's not really working.

"Explain it to me again Bonnie, because surely I'm missing something here."

Bonnie shakes her head with a glazed smile on her face, "You're not missing anything, Caroline. Shane told me everything I need to do..."

It's a few more sips into her mug before Elena notices the change. She doesn't have a word for it. It's just...a _something_ starting inside her. But that's not right either. It's more like something _stopping, _slowing down the borrowed blood moving in her veins. The pressure builds and builds against the walls of her chest, pushing up her throat and through the little tubes connecting to her ear drums. Deep in her mind a part of her recognizes she could no longer hear Matt talking, or Caroline, or anyone over her own pulsing heart beat. It's like drowning all over again.

The same deep part of her realizes she can, possibly, fight past...whatever this is. Fumble with the safety belt, claw her way to the surface.

But for what?

_Because it's what I do._

Because she's a Petrova, and a Gilbert. Because she's _Elena Gilbert_, warrior princess. She finds a way to get up in the morning. She's better than that. Never one to back down from a fight, be it for the lone freshman spot on varsity or digging for some vestige of her (ex)boyfriend's humanity.

_Humanity. _

The pulsing against her skull, the numbness pulling through her veins: it's the infamous "switch" at work. But after watching that gym clock tick down with Stefan, fighting over Vickie's dead body with Damon? Denver and Tennessee and all that mess with the cure - could she really let all that be for nothing?

Before she's had a chance to answer her own question, the phone starts ringing. She swears she wouldn't be able to hear it at all if it weren't for that damned vampire hearing.

The Salvatores are eyeing her from the doorway, clearly having come up with yet another plan for her future. Matt is staring into his coffee mug and pretending not to cry. Bonnie and Caroline having the most over-cautious, pointless argument of their entire friendship. And none of them are looking at her. After everything the people in that house went through to protect her, they all miss the moment that matters most.

"I'll get it," she says.

"Hello? Can I speak to Jeremy?" April asks as if nothing was wrong. How could she sound that way?

_You're my sister._

" Jeremy can't come to the phone right now, he's not..."

_Why does everyone have to die on me? _

_"...I'm sorry..." _

What the hell; she's already died twice over, what's one more time?

_"...He's dead."_

By the time she hangs up the phone her ears have cleared. A deep breath in, and it's like she's cleared years of gunk and sludge from her arteries. She swipes Matt's coffee cup straight from his hands, downs it like a shot, and tastes nothing but empty, glorious freedom.

The slam of the mug against her mother's table must've gotten their attention. Vampire senses back to normal, Elena can feel their concerned eyes following her into the living room. No one is approaching her yet; probably deciding who best to take the job of coddling poor, helpless Elena. Laughter might be appropriate for this situation, except right now there's really only one thing on her mind.

_Where did Jenna put the matches?_


End file.
